


the kind of thing that goes without saying

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, No seriously this is pure fluffy love making turn back now if you want any conflict whatsoever, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It can start with a touch as simple or as feather-light as the brush of fingers against the back of a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the kind of thing that goes without saying

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on http://pavaal.tumblr.com/post/15159961855/please-dont-laugh-at-me-im-not-a-porn-artist and wow I should find out if there's a way to put click through links (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

It can start with a touch as simple or as feather-light as the brush of fingers against the back of a hand.

You could be doing anything—eating breakfast, watching TV, writing a paper for that one college class you take and are not sure why—and all it takes is that brush, light and unassuming. You turn your head and he smiles at you somehow expectantly and without demand all at the same time, and smiles still as he leans forward to kiss you.

You feel very light on the faded red cushions of a couch that has seen better years.

The press of his lips against yours is gentle, gentle, almost as tentative as the warm breath that whisks lazily past your cheek when he turns his head to change the angle so that it’s easier for you to reciprocate, and you don’t put up a fight; you press back just as softly, your own breathing hushed so that you can listen to the audible sound your mouths make when you pull back and rise to meet each other again. The nimble digits of his hands tug at the fabric of your shirt and you obediently abandon your papers and books and stand, letting him lead you. You don’t care where he’s going or that you don’t know where your footsteps will land next because he just keeps _kissing_ you, really tenderly, and you’re kissing back like that too.

The bedroom door is closed—the two of you stop when John’s back rests up against it. He threads his fingers into your hair and bumps noses with you and laughs as his other hand turns the doorknob. You follow him in there, too, because there is no reason in hell why you shouldn’t.

He goes for the shades first and you let him, blinking a few times in order to get used to that fraction of extra light. You reach for his shirt while he places your sunglasses down on the bedside table with a quiet click, and it’s over his head and off of him as soon as he gives up trying to get your shirt off too at the exact same time, and then you’re both shirtless and he kind of snuggles up to you for a moment, chest to chest, just heaving this contented little sigh.

“You’re…” _amazing_ , you almost say, but trail off before you can completely embarrass yourself: he’s already pulling back to look you in the eye and offer you a teasing grin, ruffling your hair lightheartedly.

“I’m what, Dave?” He asks innocently. You fix your hair and distract him with another short kiss, going for the fly of his jeans. Still, you go slow, take your time, let your hands wander every inch of his skin once you get his pants and underwear off even though you’ve already memorized it all a long time ago. He’s more than eager to return the favor; both of you have gotten over your embarrassment of being naked with each other because that’s just stupid and you’re a little hard from just being this _close._ He lets out an airy laugh that sets the insides of your stomach to a squirming mess and then showers your face with kisses as you lean him down onto the bed until he’s flat on his back, locked loosely in the protective cage of your arms supporting you overtop of him.

“You’re amazing,” you finally say, and he grins like he’s the proudest guy in the world, causing the corners of your mouth to turn up too, just so. John lights up even more at that. Feeling you settle a little more firmly against him, he spreads his legs a bit wider and rolls his hips up lazily. Your breath comes out in a stutter. Rocking back gently is deliberate and relaxed; there is always time for ugency later, but not here, not now, not necessary.

After a long while of being slow, slow, _close_ he takes your face into his hands and smiles, squishing your cheeks just because he can, and then:

“You drive me so nuts.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in (you can feel the surprise etched into your facial expression) but when they do you realize it would be a sin not to kiss him; you lean down and do so, languid and open-mouthed, _trusting_ , because John Egbert might just be the only one you’ll ever do this with.

John drives you completely nuts, too, but that goes unsaid, like a lot of things do.

(Whatever it is he already knows and you know that he knows. And that’s perfectly okay.) 

All you will ever need is each other.


End file.
